A/N: We begin our third and final arc, Green Grass Glowing.


(She Was A) Hotel Detective

Chapter Twenty-Five: Dream and Doubt?


Sarah hurt.

She hurt: her face, her shoulder, her hands, her feet.

Her heart.

At the Farm, the one consistent, insistent lesson, no matter what the class, implicit when not explicit, had been about not forming attachments, not having feelings.

Feelings get you killed.

It had been drilled into Sarah, deep into Sarah.

Her father had already done much of the work, her primary and secondary education in detachment, rootlessness, alienation. He had taught her, in word but mostly in deeds, that feelings were for lambs, chumps, saps. Foolmongers like her father and her, con artists — he the conman, she the con-moll — fed off of the fools' feelings — the lambs, the saps. To feel was to cross over, to become one of the dupes.

"Darlin', listen to me: you're either the user or the used. And you don't want to be used. Feelings get you used." The sum of my father's wisdom.

The Farm changed the terminology, the justifications, but the lesson was the same. Use or be used. Attachments are weaknesses. Feelings are a liability. Spies like her fellow agents and her survived in the shadows by becoming shadows, shadowy. Feelings substantialized a person, attachments added solidity and three-dimensionality. They made a person a person. A spy was not a person and did not live in a world of persons. That was her tertiary education.

A spy was a puppet shadow in a shadow-puppet world, nothing more.

Sarah knew that training, father and Farm, had been part of the reason nothing came to be between her and the other agents she had briefly been involved with. Neither she nor they were willing to be more than shadows — and while shadows could overlap, they could not touch.

Chuck had touched her, and in doing so made her aware that she could touch others, had touched others: Carina, Devon, Casey, even Morgan. It was true that her feelings for Chuck had been part of her miscalculation, but she was not going to repent them. She had not been sloppy or negligent; she had been ignorant, and ignorant of her ignorance.

It was that last bit that rankled her: she should have known she still did not understand the chess boards she was playing on — not just at the Palmer House but at Accardo's house.

What did Chuck call it? — Thrownness. "Situations that outrun our understanding of them."

She was tied up in Accardo's dark basement while Chuck was slowly dying of Algernon's poison. She wanted to scream in rage and frustration and hurt.

But she could not give up. Her father and the Farm were wrong. Sarah was not meant to be a shadow. She was in the dark, but she was not a shadow. She was a woman in love — and there in the dark, she embraced that fact.

She tried to twist her wrists but only intensified the rope burns around them. The same with her ankles. She could no longer feel her fingers, her toes.

How long have I been down here?

She calmed herself. Thought. Three hours, give or take fifteen minutes. It's probably about 6 pm. Dusk. She considered strategies, but she had none. She had gotten a look around, a glance, just before Mungo turned out the light. The room was bare.

No furniture. Nothing on the walls. Empty.

Except for Sarah.


She started to twist her wrists again, hoping to loosen the ropes despite the firey pain, when she heard a noise from upstairs.

She had heard footsteps, heavy, crossing the floor off and on for the entire time she had been in the dark.

The noise she heard now was less footstep, more thump. Another. Another thump. Thump, thump, thump-thump.

Then, a riot of thumps, a crash. Another. Crash! Thump-thump-thump.

For a second, Sarah thought she was hearing her pulse.

Silence.

More silence.

Creaking floor. Footsteps on the stairs to the basement. Creeping.

And then Sarah knew: Algernon. He must have inferred Sarah was going to visit Accardo. She and Chuck had played the tape, made the call, in 2022. It was not a huge stretch to believe Sarah's 'errand' was a visit to Accardo.

Algernon. Somehow this had all gotten worse. The shadows were not going to let her escape them. Spooks.

She heard the door open, saw a flashlight, then she was staring into its beam. She turned her head. Rear Window was one of the few movies she had seen, and the effect of the flashlight was like the effect of Jeff's flashbulb on Thorwald's vision. She was blinded.

And then she felt hands on her, and there was no way for her to fight back, and she smelled peppermint.

Peppermint. The hands were gone. The flashlight swept the room, then she heard a click.

The light came on. Chuck was standing in the basement.


Chuck put his finger to his lips, then crossed to her in two huge, hurried steps. He pulled her up into a seated position, hugging her like crazy. She was too amazed to respond. And then she buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, a deep inhalation of Chuck.

"Sarah," he whispered, "how many men did Accardo have here?"

"Three — as far as I know. One at the gate, two inside."

Chuck leaned back and exhaled. "Okay, then we're probably okay." He spoke softly, but no longer in a whisper.

"Chuck?!"

He was wearing his green trench coat. He slipped his hand into the pocket and produced a combat knife like the one Sarah bought at Drab Olive Drab. Sarah stared at it as he cut the rope around her ankles. Chuck moved behind her to cut the rope around her wrists.

A moment later, limping heavily, Devon entered the room. "I think we got them all, Chuck." He looked at Sarah and rushed over to her, kneeling beside her. "Are you okay, Sarah?"

She nodded, still too overcome to manage connected speech. She then realized that Devon had a tranq gun in his hand.

"Chuck, Devon, how?" Sarah finally managed to speak.

Chuck moved around beside Devon. Chuck waw kneeling too. "We'll explain later. Tranqing those guys must be what tranqing big game is like. Did you ever see that movie, Devon? Hatari?"

Devon looked at Chuck. "Yeah, John Wayne, right, a couple of years ago? C'mon, you two we have to go."

Sarah leaned against Chuck as Devon led them upstairs. Sarah felt a gun in Chuck's jacket, the other pocket, as she leaned against him.

They got to the top of the stair and led Sarah into the dining room.

Accardo was slumped in his chair at the head of the table, a dart wedged in his chest, a half-eaten cannoli against it.

Mungo was face-down in the pan of cannoli; three darts were in his back. Food was strewn everywhere in the room. In the front room, the other man was on the floor, on his back, a gun beside his open hand. He too had been tranqed multiple times. Devon opened the front door and stuck his head out. He spoke to someone.

He pulled his head inside. "It's clear. Chuck, you take Sarah to Holbert's car and drive her back. She says the keys are in it."

She?

Chuck led Sarah out of Accardo's house. It was nearly dark outside. The sleet had turned to snow and it fell like shrapnel.

Sarah looked up. Devon was talking to...Ellie.

Ellie was wearing far too little for the public, much less out-of-doors. She had on a miniskirt as short as Bryce's new secretary had worn, all of her long legs exposed, and a top that hugged her closely, outlining the rest of her. She had on high heels.

She had her arms wrapped around herself. She was shivering, but she turned from Devon to Sarah and gave her a big smile. "Thank God, Sarah!"

Devon took off his coat and wrapped it around Ellie. "See you back there, Chuck." Devon and Ellie turned and hurried along the driveway, toward the gate. Sarah saw the gatekeeper, the bridge troll, on his side near the wall, half on the driveway, half off. He was a pin-cushion too.

Chuck tugged gently on Sarah. He walked her to the car and put her in the passenger seat. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sarah nodded.

Chuck shut the door and ran around the front of the Fairlane. He got in and started it up, turning on the lights and the wipers and the heater. He wheeled the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

Sarah recognized Devon's car in front of them. Chuck slipped in behind it and they drove into the whirling snow.


Sarah reached over and took Chuck's hand. It was warm, solid, substantial. He squeezed her hand. It all seemed dream-like, yet it was real.

Chuck — and Devon and Ellie — had saved her from Accardo.

Chuck took his hand from hers and pulled the gun from his pocket. He handed it to her. "That keeps poking me. — Are you sure you're okay? I was so terrified when we saw the car at Accardo's."

"Chuck, what are you doing here? How did you get here? How? How?"

He gave her that boyish look. "Well, remember when the Jameses, 2024, had their fight and you got...sorta mad at me about leaving the room?"

Sarah shook her head, unsure how what Chuck was saying constituted an answer to her questions.

"I told you then I wouldn't save myself at the loss of someone else, particularly, especially not you, Sarah.

"You caught me off-guard with that note, and then you left so quickly, and I couldn't figure out what to say with Algernon listening. But once you left I thought about last night again, the risks you ran for me. And I couldn't let you to do it again while I sat in that buggy room.

"So, I snuck down to Ellie's room. She and Devon had come back from their errand, the doctor visit." Chuck swallowed. "No one saw me. She called Devon; he was still downstairs. He came and snuck me and Ellie out of the Palmer House.

"But I knew that, well, you're you and I'm me, and Devon's great and Ellie, but we couldn't just walk into Accardo's if you were there. So, we went to see the pipe-smoking woman at Drab Olive Drab. I told her a little of what's been going on, enough to get her to understand the danger you were in, although Accardo's name seemed to do that on its own.

"Marlena had been in Accardo's house years ago, so she knew the layout. She suggested the tranq guns — stealthy. Non-lethal." Chuck glanced at Sarah and back to the road. "She gave me the knife. Like yours.

"We came up with a plan. Or Ellie did. Marlena had some women's clothes in the back. Ellie found what she wanted and put them on. She figured that Accardo's goons had already...you know, seen her...and that we could use that to get inside. So she put on that postage stamp skirt and that top.

"We got here and drove by. Marlena gave us some binoculars too. They're in Devon's car. But we saw the car, this car. And by then I knew you must have been in there a long time. So we put Ellie's plan into motion. Devon dropped her off and she walked up to the gate. We hid nearby, on the outside. That hulk came to the gate and she let him...ogle her, encouraged him, even.

"She said, 'I think you've seen me before, on 8 mm film…' The guy chuckled at her, staring." Sarah could hear the anger in Chuck's voice. "But Ellie went on, cooing, I guess you'd say. She said she'd come to see if there was anything she could trade for the film.

"The guy unlocked the gate and came back. Devon stepped out and shot him. But he didn't go down. It took two more darts. He collapsed and we went to the door. It wasn't locked. Devon and I got inside, we told Ellie to stay outside, and the next guy came at us. Devon fired once but the guy didn't go down, so Devon tackled him, like football — man, what a tackle! — before he could shoot. I shot him while he wrestled with Devon.

"You did, Chuck?" Sarah said, the whole story sounding dream-like. Sarah shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Remember, I told you my mom used to take me to the range. I can shoot, even if I lost that bottle-shooting contest. And I couldn't miss, Sarah, not when your life was at stake. I didn't. I ran past that guy as Devon disentangled himself from him, and I burst in on Accardo. I shot him. I mean, I guess the guy at the end of the table with the faceful of cannoli was Accardo. I didn't get a good look."

"It was."

"Okay. I tranqed the boss of the Chicago Outfit. There's a line for my resume. So, the last guy lumbers in and I shot him. Once, he kept coming; twice, he kept coming. I shot him once more and he nodded into the cannoli pan."

Sarah gazed at her boyfriend. He had done this. It was real, not a dream. "You saved me."

He looked at her. "You're not going to yell at me about leaving the room, are you?"

She snuggled against him, still not sure that she had it all straight, but overjoyed to be alive and with him. She leaned her head on his shoulder. She saw him looking at her in the rearview mirror. Then she saw herself. Her face was bruised, one side, where Mungo punched her, swollen. Her lip was split and there was blood on her chin. Her glasses were gone. Accardo knocked them off with his first slap.

She looked awful. A complete mess.

Chuck's eyes met hers in the mirror as they looked into it. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

She wiped at her chin and then stretched up to kiss his cheek. She snuggled against him and stopped trying to get it all straight.

"Where are we going, Chuck?"

"Back to Drab Olive Drab. Marlena said she can hide me there. She said you already asked."

He glanced at her, his gaze a prayer, thanksgiving. "Thank God, Sarah. Thank God! I don't know what I would have done if I never saw you again."

She nodded with tears in her eyes and thought about the word she said to Accardo: Family.

She smiled at Chuck through her tears.

And then she heard it — as if Accardo's clock were in the car. Tick, tick, tock.


Sarah and Chuck and Ellie were in Marlena's apartment. It was above her surplus shop. It looked much as Sarah expected, like the interior of a gypsy wagon.

Marlena was smoking her pipe, standing in her kitchen, waiting for water to boil. She was going to make tea.

Devon had switched cars. He was taking the Fairlane back to Holbert.

Ellie had taken Sarah into the bathroom.

Ellie had helped Sarah wash her rope burns and apply ointment to them, then had checked the bandage on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah had washed her face. Ellie was now checking Sarah's split lip, her bruises, and swelling.

Sarah could see the anger in Ellie's eyes as she worked.

"Bastards. Men hitting women. Bastards! They deserved what they got and a lot worse."

Ellie turned to open the bottle of aspirin Marlena had given them. "Ellie, you and Chuck, and Devon. You shouldn't have come. You have no training…"

Ellie turned and gave Sarah a warm smirk. "We got the job done, though, didn't we?"

"But, Ellie, look at you. I never wanted you to dress like that, do what you did, for me."

Ellie's smirk vanished but not its warmth. "I won't say I liked it, particularly...not in front of Devon...but we Bartowskis, we don't give up. Not where people we care about are concerned. Too far isn't far enough."

"How did Devon take all...that?" Sarah gestured at Ellie's very revealing clothes.

"He worked hard to keep his eyes on mine." Ellie grinned. "I'm glad that he did — but I admit...I'm glad it took so much effort too."

She stopped for a second. "But I had to explain. So, in the car, on the way here, I told him about Aidan and the film. All of it"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, for a minute or two. And then he kissed my cheek softly and told me he was very sorry. He...he held my hand...all the rest of the way."

"You like him, don't you?"

Ellie stood for a moment, unmoving, then she nodded. "Yes, yeah, I guess I do. But that part of my life has seemed so distant for so long, it's hard...feeling my way back into it. It's like foreign terrain."

Sarah blew out a breath, understanding. "Feelings are hard."

Ellie giggled softly. "You said it, sister." Ellie handed Sarah some aspirin, her expression becoming serious again.

"Sarah, those men, they didn't do...anything else to you, did they?"

"No, Ellie, but if you all hadn't shown up…" Sarah took the aspirin and Ellie turned away again to fill a cup with water. She gave it to Sarah and Sarah washed down the aspirin.

They looked at each other for a moment. "Right," Ellie said with a tone of finality. "Well, we did show up."

Sarah reached out and took Ellie's hand. "Ellie, you said that Chuck is the one for me, that I love your brother. How do you know?"

Ellie shrugged. "Do you mean how do I know if you love him, or do you mean how do you know if you love him?"

Sarah looked away, then back. "The latter, I guess."

Ellie started changing back into her clothes. Sarah let go of Ellie's hand and sat down on the closed toilet.

"I guess there are two ways," Ellie said, her tone contemplative. "One is...third-personal. Just think about your behavior around him, what you are willing to do for him, that kind of thing. The other is first-personal; it's about perspective. Does your world sort of...organize...itself around him?"

Ellie raised an eyebrow as she finished. "Is there any doubt, Sarah? Look at you. Not the stereotypical picture of a woman in love but the most convincing I've ever seen. Is there really any doubt?"

Sarah stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. She faced Ellie and shook her head.

Ellie smiled with delight — then slipped on her shoes. Her face became serious again.

"Let's go and talk to Chuck and Devon. Devon's probably back by now. I feel like myself again. And I could use that cup of tea. — We need to talk about the visit Devon and I paid to the toxicologist. Chuck refused to listen until we'd found you. We're running out of time."

She opened the bathroom door and they walked out.

Chuck was seated at Marlena's small table. Devon was beside him. Each had a cup of tea.

But both were looking into the kitchen.

Marlena was in the kitchen and she was talking to Sarah's father.

Sarah's father heard Sarah and Ellie come into the room. He gave Sarah, the room, his huge, practiced, chiseler smile.

"There she is! Hey, Darlin'! Have to say, I've seen you looking better."


A/N: And...the third arc is off and running. The third arc will not be as long as the first two. We are still a distance from finishing but not as far as you might think.

Tune in next time for Chapter Twenty-Six, "Poisoners and Palisades".

Let me say again that I hope folks are staying in and hanging in. My best to you all.

Thoughts?